Ten Ways
by BananaNutMuffinz
Summary: A one-shot series, following our favorite crime-fighting duo as they learn to care. Inspired by PatRose's picture, "Ten Ways To Love". Epic friendship. No slash.
1. Trust Without Wavering

**_A/N: I know this is short, but there's much more to come! Also, I don't own_** **Battle Creek** ** _. If I did, it would've been renewed for a second season... :\_**

 **1: "Trust Without Wavering"**

* * *

Russ glanced over at his new partner, wondering for the umpteenth time how it was possible for someone to trust others so easily.

Feeling Russ' eyes on him, Milt looked up from his reports.

"What?"

Russ shook his head.

"You're unbelievable," he said.

Russ just hoped the other man knew better than to take that as a compliment.


	2. Listen Without Interrupting

**2\. "Listen Without Interrupting"**

* * *

The team was crowded around Font's desk, locked in a heated debate.

"So do you think McKinney is somehow involved?" Asked Holly.

"He has to be," Russ muttered, glancing at the computer screen.

"I don't see how that's possible," Jacocks insisted.

"There's no way," Funkhauser agreed, folding his arms over his chest.

"What do _you_ think, Font?" Niblet asked. At that, everyone turned to look at the detective.

Font only shook his head, gesturing helplessly at the computer. "I don't know," he replied, frustrated. "I can't find any useful information on this guy!"

Meanwhile, Milt stood in the doorway, listening to the exchange. The agent, who had been watching quietly until now, spoke up suddenly. "McKinney? I've heard that name before," he mused. He pulled out his phone, and began typing rapidly.

"Agent Andrew McKinney was arrested six years ago for aiding the robbery of an armored vehicle," Milt read aloud. "The reports are sealed," he continued, "but I have contacts that can-"

Russ immediately strode over and slammed the door in Milt's face, cutting the agent off mid-sentence. He whirled around, ignoring everyone's wide-eyed stares.

"Font?" Russ asked.

"I, uh... the reports are definitely sealed," Font replied. "To get access to them, we'd need the FBI's-"

"We _don't_ need the FBI," Russ cut him off. "Or in case no one here remembers, we did everything just _fine_ without them," he finished hotly.

Russ stood there, waiting, because surely someone in this place had to agree with him. Font, however, glanced over at the door, as did everyone else in the room.

"Oh, for the love of..." Russ pinched the bridge of his nose. _"Fine."_

At that, Jacocks stepped past him, and opened the door. Milt was already on the phone, however, his back to them. Noticing them in the doorway, the agent turned and beamed. He pointed to the phone, giving everyone a thumbs up.

Russ scowled at the man. Jacocks patted his arm in mock-sympathy. "Don't do that, Russ," she admonished lightly. "No one likes a sore loser."


	3. Share Without Pretending

**3\. "Share Without Pretending"**

 _ **A/N: Alternate scene for "Heirlooms", and a crossover, of sorts... :D**_

* * *

"I wet my bed 'til I was 12," Russ said.

"No you didn't," Milt replied, not even bothering to turn around.

"I sleep with a nightlight," Russ tried again. "I'm lactose-intolerant. I've never seen the inside of a woman's-"

Milt whirled around.

"-bathroom," the detective finished lamely.

"I helped save the world from giant space robots," Milt replied.

Russ stared at him blankly.

"...giant space robots."

"Well..." Milt shrugged, " _decepticons_ , actually."

"Unbelievable," Russ muttered, pushing past him.

The younger man frowned. He followed after the detective, confused.

"You're hurt?" Milt questioned.

"Yeah, Milt." Russ replied. He turned around, pinning the other man with a withering glare.

"If you're gonna lie to me, at least put some effort into it."


	4. Speak Without Accusing

**4\. "Speak Without Accusing"**

* * *

"Where is he? Where's that jackass?!" Russ demanded.

"Russ! Russ, hold on a minute-" Font called after him.

Russ paid him no mind. The detective stormed down the hall, clothes dripping wet, ready to quite literally rain hell on whichever unfortunate soul had incited his wrath.

In this case, that unfortunate soul was none other than Agent Milton Chamberlain.

Russ barged through the doors, past the secretary, and right into said agent's office. Then he stood there for a moment, seething.

"Russ," Milt greeted, "how's-" glancing up from his paperwork, the agent stopped short. He frowned, eyes lingering on the sopping wet detective. "Can I get you a towel?"

Russ smiled viciously.

"Please do," he replied. "Then maybe I can _strangle you with it_ -"

Milt's secretary glanced over, alarmed. Milt smiled at her reassuringly. "Everything's fine," he said.

Russ choked. "Fine. Fine?! A suspect drove me into a freaking _lake_ while you were sitting here the whole time doing..."

"Paperwork," Milt supplied.

"...doing _ZERO_ ," Russ yelled, "and everything's _fine_?!"

Milt leaned forward, folding his hands on the desk in front of him.

"I would've been happy to accompany you," the agent replied calmly, "but you said you didn't need me on this case."

Russ only stared at him in disbelief.

"You're a bastard," he marveled. "You're a narcissistic, _lying_ , manipulative bastard."

"I was only doing as I was told," Milt replied, unfazed.

Russ sneered. "Yeah, of course you were."

A thick silence settled over the room. Milt looked away, returning to his paperwork with renewed eagerness. Russ watched, radiating cold fury.

"I was wrong, " he said suddenly.

Milt glanced up at that.

"Oh?"

"You're not a tool," Russ spat, "because tools are actually _useful_."

The detective then turned to leave, but not before shooting the other man one last detesting look. Milt met his gaze, going completely rigid.

"You'd better find a way to go back to Detroit," Russ said coldly, "because you sure as hell don't belong here." With that, Russ stormed out of the office, slamming the door shut behind him.

Milt watched the detective's retreating form, face oddly blank. There was a sudden, loud _snap_ , and the agent looked down to find himself grasping a broken pen, knuckles white. He sat there for a moment, staring numbly as ink splattered onto the papers, dripping down from his one clenched hand.

Then, Milt released a heavy breath, and he buried his head in the other.


	5. Forgive Without Punishing

**5\. "Forgive Without Punishing"**

* * *

Uncomfortable silence stretched between the two partners as they sat together the next morning. They probably would have still been avoiding each other if it wasn't for Guziewicz's insistence that they work together for the remainder of the case. As it was, the two men had exchanged a total of three words with each other since yesterday's incident.

And yes, Russ had counted.

The detective glanced over at his partner. Maybe he was imagining it, but the man seemed unusually subdued. Russ raked a hand through his hair, sighing heavily.

"Uh... look, man," he started, "about yesterday..."

Milt turned to face him, quickly plastering on a smile.

"Don't worry about it," the agent said, waving him off. "You were under a lot of stress. I get it." Milt clapped Russ on the back good-naturedly, grinning now as though nothing had ever happened.

Russ tried to smile, but it came out as more of a grimace. Then he swallowed down the guilt, secretly wondering if "kill 'em with kindness" was an FBI tactic.


	6. Give Without Sparing

**6\. "Give Without Sparing"**

 _ **(A/N: Car-ride madness, served with a generous helping of noxious gray sludge... :D)**_

* * *

Russ eyed the food with no small measure disgust.

"You gonna eat that?"

Milt frowned. "What's wrong with it?"

Russ turned, now eying _Milt_ with that look.

"It's not food," the detective replied flatly.

At that, they both glanced down at the two bowls of food on the console of the car. Russ', with a still-steaming breakfast sandwich, and Milt's lumpy, gray, oatmeal-looking... thing. (Whatever it was, Russ couldn't be sure.)

Milt straightened, eyes narrowing. "And what would you have suggested?" He challenged.

"Bacon. Eggs. Get a frigging cheeseburger," Russ replied. "But that? That's like..." he leaned over to sniff at it, "oh, _hell_. That's like nuclear _waste_."

Milt looked at him incredulously.

"Come on," he said, "it can't be that bad." To prove his point, Milt dug into it with a plastic spoon. And then paused when said spoon didn't immediately come free. He struggled slightly with it for a moment, before it finally pulled away with a sickly _squelch_.

Milt grimaced, eying the spoonful of stuff.

"... and anyways," the younger man added carefully, "it's too late for me to go back and get something else."

Russ glanced over at the food again, and huffed impatiently.

"Take mine then," he offered. "I already had three of those scones that Holly brought in this morning."

Milt blinked at him, startled.

"I'm, uh... no, no that's fine, thank you-"

Russ rolled his eyes, shoving the plate of food towards a bewildered-looking Milt.

"Eat up," he said. "I'm not hauling your ass around a crime scene if you starve and pass out."


	7. Answer Without Arguing

**7\. "Answer Without Arguing"**

 ** _A/N: More car-riding madness, because cars can be such exciting places :P_**

* * *

"Ok. Yeah. We're heading back to the station now," Russ spoke into his phone. He ended the call and paused, clenching the steering wheel with one white-knuckled hand. He then stared out at the road for a good, honest three seconds before turning off onto the nearest exit.

Milt stared at him from the passenger side.

"This isn't the way to the station," the agent remarked.

"No, Milt, it isn't." Russ replied, all too calmly.

The younger man frowned in disapproval.

"Russ..." he said.

" _Milton_ ," came the snapped reply.

The detective took a sharp turn left. Milt fastened his seatbelt just a little bit tighter.

The car was silent for a beat. When Russ spoke up finally, his voice was firm.

"We need to head back to that building, _now_ ," he said. "No, we're not supposed to be doing this, and _yes_ , we are breaking the rules..."

The detective sighed loudly, glancing in the rearview mirror.

"It's late. Everyone will be gone," he tried again. "Yeah, this isn't _conventional_ -" Russ gave the agent a pointed look, "-but we could prove Matthews' innocence."

Milt seemed to consider this for a moment. Russ steeled himself, ready to argue his point. This case was far too important for them to just sit around and wait for something to pop up, especially while an innocent man was persecuted, and-

"Alright," Milt said.

Russ' head whipped from the road to Milt so fast, that he nearly steered the car into a ditch. He pulled the wheel to the left sharply, and the car fishtailed once before skidding back onto the pavement. Once the car was again situated, Russ glanced over at the other man. Milt grasped the passenger side handle tightly, eyes wide.

"Did... did aliens abduct you or something?" Russ asked slowly.

Milt stared back at him in disbelief.

"Yes, actually, now that you mention it..." he deadpanned.

Russ shrugged. "Had to ask."

The rest of the drive was spent in relative silence. And if for the next few days Russ shot Milt periodically with suspicious glances, well... that was entirely Russ' business.


	8. Pray Without Ceasing

**8\. "Pray Without Ceasing"**

 _ **A/N: My version of what happened after 1x13. Part 1 of 3**_

* * *

"If you die, Meredith is gonna kill me." Russ spoke to the unconscious man, voice filling the hospital room.

Milt, however, didn't stir. Russ shouldn't have expected him to, really. The FBI agent was currently surrounded by an array of machines, skin a sickly grayish hue and his chest wrapped heavily in bandages.

It was such a strange contrast from just a few hours before. Yeah, the man had been shot, but then they'd laughed about it because, _hey_ , shoulder wounds. And honestly, the man had been conscious and coherent enough so that meant he'd be fine, right?

Only it didn't, because about halfway through the surgery a doctor had appeared, looking flustered. She'd started explaining about "blood loss" and "complications" (and possibly a few other things, too, but Russ can't be sure).

He didn't hear much after that.

"Just, no more of this-" Russ gestured vaguely at the machines, " -... crap."

He breathed out harshly, ignoring the pull of his injured ribs.

"I'll grab a beer with you. Hell, I'll grab ten of them," the detective jibed. "That's what you wanted, right?" Somehow, amid the steady whir and beeping of the machines, his remarks fell flat.

Russ scrubbed a hand over his face. "Idiot," he muttered. "friggin' _idiot_ -"

The detective's voice cracked and he swore, shutting his eyes against the unexpected swell of emotion. Because yeah, he cared now, apparently.

Or maybe he'd cared all along.

The realization left him dizzy, clinging to the bed-rails and wishing he hadn't acted like such an ass towards the other man. He realized, now, that he'd turned Milt away when the man had needed a friend the most.

Guilt churned in Russ' stomach, eating away at his insides as he imagined the bullet had done to Milt. Weary from both the day's events and his own injuries, Russ sank down into the hospital chair by Milt's bed.

Then he prayed silently that he would get the chance to make things right.


	9. Enjoy Without Complaint

**9\. "Enjoy Without Complaint"**

 ** _A/N: Post 1x13, part 2 of 3_**

* * *

Milt's eyelids fluttered open, and he blinked dazedly.

"About time, sleeping beauty," said a familiar voice.

The agent's eyes widened, darting about the room before his gaze finally landed on his partner.

"Where..?" Milt rasped.

"Hospital," Russ replied. "Decided to play target practice with psycho father-of-the-year. Remember that?"

Milt's eyes widened further and he tried to sit up. Immediately, pain blossomed in his chest, and he fell back with a sharp gasp.

"Woah, hey, take it easy," Russ exclaimed, pushing him down gently. "I'm not supposed to be 'agitating' you yet. The nurses don't like me as it is."

Milt lay back obediently, but his eyes never left Russ. No doubt the man was checking for him for injuries. Russ almost smiled at the irony.

"I'm fine," the detective assured him. "It's you that took a bullet."

" _'Tis but a scratch_ ," Milt replied breathlessly.

Russ leveled him with a look.

"Your heart stopped. You almost died, man."

Milt laughed faintly.

Russ' jaw clenched. "That's not funny."

"It's not," Milt agreed.

Russ stared at him with a slightly horrified expression. Even if the man _was_ drugged out of his mind, it was way too early for Russ to be hearing this kind of shit. The detective opened his mouth to reply, ready to convey exactly that, but Milt caught his sleeve in a weak grip.

"Y'were worried," Milt slurred. "Knew you liked me..."

Russ rolled his eyes, but didn't disagree.

"You're going to have to talk to someone, when you're out of here." Russ said, a moment later. "Don't think you're gonna get out of it."

Milt frowned up at him, too tired and weak to protest.

With that, Russ stood up from the hospital chair, wincing at his stiff legs. He strode over to the window, watching quietly as a nurse came in briefly to check the other man's vitals. As the detective continued to pace restlessly, Milt watched his movements, struggling against heavy lids.

Russ took one look at him and huffed in annoyance.

"Just sleep already. I'm not going anywhere."

Almost instantly, Milt relaxed against the pillows, eyes sliding shut. Russ considered him for a moment, simply watching the man take deep, even breaths. Before Milt could fall asleep, however, the detective strode over and leaned in just close enough for the injured man to hear.

"Pull something like that again," Russ said pleasantly, "and I'll shoot you myself."

"Mm," Milt murmured, "deal."


	10. Promise Without Forgetting

**10\. "Promise Without Forgetting"**

 ** _A/N: Post 1x13, part 3 of 3. Shameless fluff and friendship feels. I hope you enjoy! :)_**

* * *

Russ stood in the doorway a moment, observing his partner. The younger man was sitting up in the hospital bed, and looked markedly better than the last time Russ had seen him.

The detective leaned an arm against the doorframe. "You look good," he remarked.

Milt, noticing him there, brightened considerably.

"Hey," he greeted. "I-..." the agent faltered, stopping short. "I didn't think you'd come here," he finished awkwardly. "Today, I mean."

Russ frowned.

"Where else would I be?"

Milt shrugged one shoulder, avoiding the detective's gaze.

Russ watched him carefully, eyes narrowing. He pulled up a chair by the bed, sitting in it as though he hadn't been planted there for the better part of four days. Speaking of plants...

"Looks like the whole station sent you flowers," Russ remarked, glancing at the impressive number of vases lined up around the hospital room.

Milt gave a small smile.

"Yeah," he said.

Russ frowned. His eyes searched the other man's face, before wandering over to the thick bandage that was still wound tightly around Milt's chest. The agent fidgeted under his scrutinizing gaze. Russ cleared his throat awkwardly.

"So how's..." he gestured vaguely.

"Doctor said there's no permanent damage," Milt replied, a little too quickly. "And she has me going to therapy, now."

"Yeah?" Russ asked. "How's that?"

"It hurts, but it's necessary," Milt replied. Then, meeting the detective's gaze, he added wryly, "The sessions for my shoulder are pretty rough, too."

Russ managed a tight smile.

Milt glanced down at his hands, and the detective tilted, trying to catch hold of his gaze.

"So, uh... how are you doing?" Russ tried. "I mean, aside from the obvious. Are you good?"

Milt shook his head sharply, releasing a heavy breath.

"No," he answered honestly. "But I think I'll get there."

"That's good," Russ said, "because I brought you something."

At that, the detective reached down and carefully pulled a brown paper bag out of his backpack. Milt glanced over at him, curiosity piqued.

"I was going to wait until after you were out of here," Russ explained, "but I thought now would be as good of a time as any." He grinned slightly, pulling one, then two beers from the paper bag.

"Here. They're non-alcoholic," Russ said, handing one to Milt. "Your pain medication," the detective explained, "and I've gotta drive."

Milt turned the bottle in his hands, a slow smile spreading on his face.

"You snuck these in for me?" He asked. "I'm touched, Detective Agnew."

"Think of it as incentive," Russ replied smoothly, popping the top off his beer. "But you'd better drink it before the nurses see and attack me with... I dunno, syringes or something."

Milt laughed.

" _Syringes?_ "

Russ put on his best affronted look, secretly reveling in the fact that he'd finally gotten the man to smile. They sat like that for a moment, simply enjoying the drinks and each other's company.

Suddenly, Milt glanced over at Russ.

"Thank you," he said.

"For what?" Russ asked, pretending not to know.

The agent gave him a meaningful look.

"For staying," he replied.

"Yeah, well..." Russ cleared his throat. "You're my partner," he said, just as determinedly as before.

Milt smiled, and this time, it was bright and genuine. Warmth filled Russ' chest, and the detective found himself smiling, too. He turned, giving Milt's good shoulder a light squeeze.

The next few weeks would be rough, Russ knew. But no matter what happened next, he would have his partner's back. He would do whatever it took to get Milt through this and, in the end, their friendship would be stronger for it.

* * *

 ** _Poor emotionally traumatized Milt... ;_; but no worries, he has Russ there to help him through it now :D_**

 ** _I've enjoyed writing this story so much, I'm sad to be finishing it! A huge thank you to everyone who followed/favorited/reviewed, you guys are awesome! :D_**

 ** _There may or may not be one more itty bitty, bonus "thank you" chapter coming... :)_**


	11. Bonus

**_Set in what would be season 2. Just something silly to end this on a high note. :)_**

* * *

Milt's head fell against the desk with a heavy thud.

"Someone shoot me," he groaned.

Everyone turned and stared at him in horror.

"Oh," Milt winced. "Sorry. Too soon?"

"Yeah," Russ replied slowly, "too soon."


End file.
